When being better isn't good enough
by RedVoid
Summary: "How could this happen?" I muttered darkly to the empty room before taking a long draw from my drink and walking towards the window. "I did everything perfectly. I treated her with more respect and kindness than a creature like her could ever expect. I promised her freedom. AND SHE SIMPLY VANISHES!"
1. Unplanned

**Hello there! Well, as promised, here is Chamberlin's fic: 'When being better isn't good enough'. =D**

**Now, it isn't really necessary to read this fic to understand 'Living'. ****'When being better isn't good enough' **is more like an extra to those who want to understand Chamberlin and see what he's doing while Elli is on the run. 

**Now, this first chapter starts with Chamberlin, a few minutes after Elli and Darrel locked him in Elli's cell. **

* * *

"You sure took your time, Boris." I spoke as the demon opened the cell in which I was "trapped". The best and youngest scientist of the facility, Dr. Henry Banann, was thrown over his right shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"I apologize, my lord." He said softly. "Miss Davis and the little rat that follows her took longer than expected." It never ceases to amuse me how very possessive he is with that girl, even though I don't understand (and honestly don't care) why he acts this way. I also enjoy the disdain in his voice when he talks about Basset; I myself have a strong dislike for the man.

"Well, let's not waste more time than necessary. Go take care of the experiments from the underground and set the gunpowder and nitroglycerin around the compound." I ordered the demon, taking the scientist's unconscious body from him. "I will be waiting for you in the living room. You did remember to bring the makeup, correct?"

"Of course, milord." He purred. "It's in a suitcase under the couch in the living room."

* * *

I threw Dr. Banann on the couch, letting out a sigh of relief as his weight was lifted from my arms; he is quite thin, but carrying him up the stairs was no easy task. I gave him a light slap on the face to see if he'd woke up, but he didn't even stir.

Allowing a satisfied smile to stretch on my lips, I grabbed the suitcase that held the makeup and sat on an armchair that was besides the couch. So far, so good. Now I just needed to make myself look a little beaten (a purple eye and a split lip should suffice). Boris would take care of the rest.

* * *

The demon made his appearance a couple of minutes later and it was hard for me not to widen my eyes in shock at seeing his state; he was completely beaten. His once slicked back hair was completely disheveled, his face was full of bruises and small cuts and his clothes were full of huge gashes exposing his broken skin and blood.

"Everything is ready for our departure, milord." He announced with a big smile on his face. "All of the remaining experiments were eliminated and the powder and nitroglycerin are in the necessary places."

"Grab Dr. Banann and let's leave, then." I ordered as I raised myself from the armchair and started to walk towards the front door with Boris in tow. "Now, what happened to you? Don't tell me that you had problems to deal with those experiments."

"Of course not, milord." He answered smoothly. "I allowed them to hurt me to make everything more realistic to Dr. Banann. After all, real bruises are better than makeup, don't you agree, milord?"

"So, you are suggesting that Dr. Banann will realize that I'm not truly hurt." I stated, glaring at the groun. I hate when people try to manipulate me, thinking that I won't realize what they are doing. And that was exactly what he was doing right now. Audacious thing.

"Well, you did a spectacular job with the makeup, milord." He began with a mellow voice. "But Dr. Banann is a brilliant scientist with a degree in Medicine…"

Bloody hell; he did have a point there. Putting a smirk on my lips, I halted and turned to the demon. "Punch me, Boris."

"Sir? Are you certain of that?" He asked; eyes wide in shock and voice dripping with false concern. Did he honestly think that I didn't know that this was his intention all along?

"Yes." I answered, widening my smirk. "And don't let your punch be like your words, demon. Hit me as if you mean it." And I know he does mean to, though I'm also sure that he will control his strenght. He has a contract to fulfill and won't be able to do it if I'm dead after all.

At hearing my words, he dropped his shocked expression and let a true smile stretch across his lips; it was alluring and sadistic, just like him.

"Your wish is an order, milord."

I watched him lay Dr. Banann on the ground and raise his fist to me. Then everything went black.

* * *

Ah! God fucking damn it all to the deepest depths of the bloody hell! My head! I think it'll explode! What happened? Why does my head hurt so- Oh right, I ordered Boris to punch me. No wonder they say the fish dies by its own mouth... I will never order something that stupid again.

Despite the absurd amount of pain I was feeling, I forced my eyes to open. I was somewhere in the forest, sitting on the ground with my back supported by a tree. I looked up; it seemed that Boris had already set off the explosives because I could see a lot of black smoke rising to the skies.

"Marquise Chamberlin!" A nearby voice called, making me lower my gaze. Dr. Banann was kneeled in front of me with a worried expression on his face. "Do you recognize me, my lord? Do you remember what year we're in?"

"Dr. Banann…"I whispered, moving my mouth as little as possible to lessen the pain. "We're in 1887…"

"Yes." He let out, allowing a relieved smile to stretch across his face. "Thankfully, it seems the trauma on your head wasn't hard enough to cause any kind of brain damage. It seems those two just knocked you out and ran away."

"W-What happened?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"It's a disaster, Lord Chamberlin!" He began desperately. "Our two most valuable experiments not only ran away from us; they also exploded the compound! We were lucky that your butler was there today, or else we'd be blown up with the building."

"And where is he now?"

"He said that you have a property nearby; he went there to get us a carriage."

I nodded my head and regretted the action almost immediately. Stupid, painful motion…

"I know you said my brain is fine. Now, how grave is my head injury on the outside, Doctor?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"It looks pretty bad, sir; the whole left side of your face is bruised purple and your left eye is quite swollen." He answered, thankfully not beating around the bush. "We better wash and put some ointment on it as soon as we get to your property. It'd be a great help as well if you have some ice there to put on your face."

"I do believe I have some ice stored there, yes."

"Wonderful. Also, I can take a better look at you when we get to your house, where I'm sure there are candles; the moon doesn't provide enough light to make a throughout exam."

"That would be much appreciated, doctor. Thank you very much." I said softly, smiling gratefully at the doctor. "Now, would you be kind enough to help me stand? I believe I hear our carriage approaching."

* * *

On the next day, even before the sun had begun to rise, I was already in my study holding an ice pack to my face and looking out of the window with a pleased and calm smile to my face. When was the last time I had actually enjoyed silence? I honestly couldn't remember. Normally, I hate to stay alone in silence…

But **this** silence right now was simply blissful; even if it only reminded me of the calm before the storm.

"Milord, you're up early today." I heard the demon's soft voice come from the door, making my smile disappear instantly. So much for silence. "Would you like me to bring y-"

"No." I put in firmly, not even turning to the butler behind me. "I don't want you to bring me anything. Just light the fireplace and leave me alone. Return only when Dr. Banann awakes."

"As you wish, milord." He answered submissively, walking to the fireplace.

I moved my gaze to watch the demon kneel in front of the fireplace and start putting pieces of wood in it. I couldn't help but smirk at the vision. Ah, how I loved to see such a powerful being obeying my every command as if I was a king. No, as if I was THE king.

Well… Soon enough I will be.

* * *

The butler returned to my study a few hours later.

"Dr. Banann has awaken, milord." He began softly. "Would like me to bring him here?"

"Yes, Boris." I answered, looking up from my book with a pleased smile on my face. "Also, bring another ice pack to my face and some tea to the doctor and me."

"I'll be back shortly, milord." The demon bowed deeply to me and left the room.

I took a look at my pocket-watch; 08h07min. It seems that Dr. Banann dosen't sleep much either. Letting out a tired sigh, I raised myself from the couch and returned my book to its place on the shelf. Well, all good things must come to an end.

I took my place at my desk, resting my elbows on it and supporting my chin on the back of my hands.

Everything was going according to my plans. Dr. Banann doesn't even suspect that I was involved in the events of last night; to him, I'm just a victim. It shall be easy to turn him against those treacherous, money-driven lords. Soon I will know for sure who were the ones to betray me and I will make them pay dearly. I felt myself tense in a mix of rage and anticipation.

Hearing the door's knob turn, I relaxed in my seat and put a sweet smile on my face.

"Milord, Dr. Banann is here as you requested." Boris announced, holding the door open to the scientist with one hand and holding a tray with tea and snacks with the other.

The doctor gave a thankful nod to the butler and entered the room. I must say that, at the moment, he was quite an amusing sight. Doctor Henry Banann, only 17 years old, had borrowed some of my clothes (a white shirt, a dark blue vest and black pants to be exact), but they were far too big to his petite form; the young genius was quite thin and his height couldn't be more than 5'7''. This, combined with his uncombed brown hair and big brown eyes, made him look like a 15 years old child and, thanks to that, I didn't have to force myself to smile in the doctor's presence.

What can I say? I have a soft spot for children.

In a few seconds, Boris had already served the tea and handed me the ice pack.

"Thank you, Boris, that'll be all for now. Why don't you go prepare some breakfast for us?" I said, voice full of false sweetness. "Dr. Banann and I will go to the dinning room as soon as we finish our talk here."

"As you wish, milord." The demon purred before bowing and leaving the room.

"I hope that the accommodations were good enough to allow you some rest, doctor." I said softly, motioning with my free hand for him to sit down on the chair in front of my table. He quickly obliged.

"They were more than good enough, Lord Chamberlin. Thank you very much." The scientist began with a grateful smile that soon gave place to a concerned expression. "And how are you feeling, sir?"

"Oh, don't worry about me, doctor." I answered dismissively, taking a sip from my tea. "My head still hurts, but not as bad as yesterday." That said, I dropped the smile and acquired a serious and preoccupied expression. "Now, I believe we have more important matters to discuss, don't you agree doctor?"

"Yes, you're right, Lord Chamberlin." He agreed; his expression as serious as mine. "We must find the experiments as soon as possible. They're far too valuable and dangerous to be let wandering around for another day. I'm sure the other Lords will be willing to aid the search; let's inform th-"

"No." I put in with a commanding voice. "We shall not inform anyone of what happened last night."

"W-What are you saying, Lord Chamberlin? Why keep this a secret?"

"Dr. Banann, you know it'd be impossible for those two to escape their cells on their own. Someone from the outside helped them."

"I agree that is hard to imagine those two breaking out of their cells without the aid of the serum, but-"

"They had the key, doctor." I let out exasperatedly. "And they knew I'd be there; they told me this themselves. It wasn't a simple 'break and run'; whoever helped them wanted me dead as well. Accept it, doctor, there are traitors among us. And they must be dealt with."

The scientist bowed his head and his eyes glazed over. I could almost see the wheels turning inside his head; he was thinking about them. All the names I needed were in his mind right now, the names of the ones who betrayed me.

"I know about everything, Dr. Banann." I stated, getting the man to raise his now wide eyes to mine. "I know that some of my 'partners', if you could call them that after what happened last night, have offered you and the others in the facility a most generous amount of money. All you had to do was hand the experiment Davis to them.

"Lord Chamberlin-" He began desperate, but I kept him from continuing with a raise of my hand.

"I also know that you declined the offer." I continued, giving him a gentle smile. "While I deeply appreciate and value your loyalty, I must ask: Why did you omit this from me?"

"I was afraid." He began with a low voice, after some seconds of silence. "The Lucifer Project has so much potential. Our findings here can, no, they WILL change the world! I just… I feared that a conflict among our patrons would put an end to that."

It was truly impressive the amount of passion he had for the Lucifer Project. Dr. Banann was indeed the perfect choice to continue it; loyal, brilliant and ambitious.

"I can't blame you, Dr. Banann." I said in an understanding voice. "You did what you thought it was necessary to keep the Lucifer Project alive and I admire you for that. But we can't keep dealing with traitors."

"What do you intend to do with them, Lord Chamberlin?"

"There's a meeting scheduled to take place tomorrow's night; all of the Lords involved will attend to it. The traitors will be eliminated there."

At hearing that, Dr. Banann's eyes widened in shock. Honestly, these scientists live so deeply buried in their laboratories that the smallest reference to murder comes as a shock to them. Does he truly believe that the deaths caused by the experiments of the Lucifer Project are less cruel than murder?

"I dislike this as much as you do, doctor." I lied with a sad but firm voice. "But they have brought this upon themselves. You said it yourself: this Project will change the world. We can't have people unworthy of our trust knowing about it." Some seconds of silence for the words to set in. "Now, the names, Dr. Banann."

"Everyone." He said and I couldn't help but widen my eyes.

"I-I'm sorry. Did I hear you correctly, doctor? You said everyone is involved in that scheme."

The scientist nodded his head; eyes shut tightly. "Yes, all of the other Lords were involved. Atwood, Claridge, Harlow and Morris."

"That is… most shocking." I let out. "But, worry not, Dr. Banann. I will deal with all of them and we will continue the Lucifer Project, only with a small change of locations."

"Change of locations, sir?"

"Exactly. I will take all the precautions to keep the explosion of our facility and the deaths of the other Lords from being associated to my name, but I don't want to even risk attracting the Queen's attention to us before the time is right. Her Watchdog is back and I would prefer to avoid having to deal with him as long as possible."

"You mean Ciel Phantomhive, sir?" Dr. Banann asked with an unbelieving voice. "He's only a kid; how much trouble can he be?"

"You are quite young yourself, Dr. Banann, and yet you're the most intelligent person I've ever met. Remember, in our underground world, age means nothing." I said seriously before putting an easy-going smile on my face. "Now, back to our location topic. Tell me doctor, how do you feel about America?"

* * *

On the morning of the next day, Boris and I were at the door of my house to say farewell to Dr. Banann.

"Although the circumstances are unfortunate, it has been a pleasure to share your company, Dr. Banann." I complimented and, for once, I wasn't lying. "I look forward to our next meeting."

"So do I, Lord Chamberlin." He said happily.

"Now, take this with you." I spoke, handing him an envelope. "This carriage will take you to Melcombe Regis. There's a ship from my company that will sail to America tomorrow. All you have to do is give this letter to its captain; he'll make sure you arrive to our new facility there safe and sound."

"The facility has already been built, sir?" He asked with wide eyes.

"Well, mostly. This change of locations is something I've been preparing since the Queen's Watchdog returned to action two years ago, so the facility and its personnel must be almost completely set." I explained. "I give you permission to make all the changes you find necessary, doctor. In a few months I'll be there to see how everything is going."

"Understood, Lord Chamberlin." Dr. Banann began as he entered the carriage. "Thank you for everything and until next time."

"Have a safe trip, doctor." I said with a big smile on my face.

As soon as the carriage was out of sight, I dropped my smile.

"Boris, you know what your next job is." I stated coldly. "I trust your chef skills will be more than enough for it." The demon smiled and disappeared from my side.

With a satisfied smile on my lips, I re-entered my now empty house. All the pieces of my game were playing their part perfectly; my pawns were almost finished building a new and improved checkerboard for me to continue it in America, my bishop was on his way there and my knight was destroying all of the ones that pose a threat to me.

"Now I just need to retrieve my tower and eliminate that little bastard before he removes her from the game."

* * *

On the following day, Boris and I went to "The Forest Arms" inn to finish our business. The attendant was reading the newspaper when we entered the place; one of the headlines was: "FOUR NOBLES DIE OF FOOD-POISONING; RESPONSIBLE CHEF IS STILL UNKNOWN".

"Marquise Chamberlin, sir!" The man exclaimed at noticing me there. "You've come after all."

"Of course I did." I said, putting a grin on my face. "I'm here to take those two from your hands."

"Eh… You see…" The man began nervously. "They aren't here, my lord."

"What do you mean, they are not here?" I asked with a bittersweet voice. "Check your records again, please."

"I-I'm really sorry, Marquise Chamberlin, sir." He continued with a low voice, making my smile drop. "The couple you talked about never showed up, my lord."

"Those two are not a couple, _sir_." The demon commented almost acidly.

I couldn't keep from widening my eyes in disbelief at him; DAVIS WAS MISSING AND HE WAS WORRIED ABOUT SHE AND BASSET BEING AN ITEM?!

"Boris…" I began, trying very hard to keep my voice calm and collected. "You will find those two until the end of the day. I don't care how, but you will. For your own sake."

* * *

When I arrived at my country house, I went straight to my study. The first thing I did was to pour myself a generous glass of my finest brandy. As I did so, I could see my hands shaking in anger and anxiety.

"How could this happen?" I muttered darkly to the empty room before taking a long draw from my drink and walking towards the window. "I did everything perfectly. I treated her with more respect and kindness than a creature like her could ever expect. I promised her freedom. AND SHE SIMPLY VANISHES!"

"Maybe, just maybe, she has more important things on her mind." I heard a mellow and all too familiar voice come from behind me. "Like our dear Darrel. You know, that lad who reminds you of me so much."

"This is simply absurd, Timothy." I replied through gritted teeth, keeping my narrowed eyes on the drink in my hand. "I am superior to that rat in every aspect."

"If he is so beneath you, why do you wish to kill him so badly?" His voice echoed softly but accusing. "Do you feel threatened by him, little brother?"

"Do not be ridiculous." I spat before sipping my drink. "Why would I?"

"Because that girl - your only successful experiment, the key to your success – ran away from you for that boy. Because, in the end, being 'better' than him, than your partners, than** me; **all of that means nothing. You are not good enough, little brother; you never were."

"QUIET!" I roared as I turned around to face him, throwing my glass to the wall in anger. "I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER WORD FROM YOU! DISAPPEAR FROM MY SIGHT RIGHT NOW!"

I was fuming. My breathing was accelerated, my fists were clenched tightly, my teeth were gritted and my eyes were brimming with angry tears. It is truly amazing how Timothy can make me lose my composure so easily.

"You'll have to make me, little brother." He said with a taunting smirk. "After all, I'm just in your head. You killed me years ago, remember?"

"I did not kill you, Timothy." I stated, recovering something from my collected self.

"That's right, you didn't kill me. You just left me to die in a fire you provoked." He began with a sarcastic voice. "Honestly, I don't see the difference, little brother."

"Be quiet. Please... just be quiet." I pleaded softly, letting my body fall heavily on my chair and burying my face in my hands. "That fire wasn't meant for you. It wasn't my fault that you died there. **I did NOT kill you**."

"Keep saying that, little brother." I heard his voice whisper in my ear. "Maybe one day you'll believe in yourself."

Tears escape from my eyes as I felt Timothy's presence disappear. The silence that settled then was deafening and heavy.

Now I remembered why I didn't enjoy loneliness in silence.

* * *

**Well, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. =)**

**In the next one I'll start telling Chamberlin's story, beginning when he was a little kid and I don't expect to take more three four chapters.**

**After I finish his background, I'll post some chapters every once in a while to show what Chamberlin is up to. These chapters will be more connected to the story 'Living'.**

**Thank you for reading! And let me know what you think of it. ;)**

**Kisses,**

**RedVoid**


	2. Childhood

**It's been a long while, but here is chapter 2! Why it took me so long to post it? Well, it seems most of you are more interested in 'Living' than in this fic, so I'm trying to concentrate myself there.** **;)**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

After what I did, you must be thinking I'm insane. But I assure you, my dear reader, I am not. And, if you thought that I was, it's only because you don't know my history. But I don't blame you; people always are quick to judge what they don't know.

Don't worry though; I'm here to tell you exactly what happened to me and, after I'm finished, I'm sure you'll be able understand me and my objectives.

But, to do that, I'll have to go back many years…

* * *

Whenever I think about my childhood, a very specific scene from my seven years of age comes to my mind: the day father went to retrieve my brother and me from our boarding school, Weston College, after our very first year there.

"Father, look my year's report!" My older brother yelled, running towards father and practically shoving a sheet of paper in his hands. "My lower grade was 64 out of 100! The professor said I was the 17th best in the class."

There were only twenty one students in our classroom. Father knew it, but he cheered nonetheless.

"That's marvelous, Timothy." He said, voice dripping with an idiotic sense of pride. "Your mother shall be very pleased to hear this."

Hand in hand, both walked to the carriage that was waiting for us in front of the school's gates. I followed them quietly, crushing my own report with my right hand.

I had scored 100 in all the subjects.

Even though Timothy was two years older than me, we were in the same class and I was the best, not him. I was first in the class.

But that didn't matter to father, or mother. To them I'd always come second.

* * *

The Chamberlin family had been one of the richest of England since the 13th century when they got involved in the wool business. The quality of their fabric had made them very famous and rich. But that wasn't the only thing they were known for. Oh, no… Their charisma, their class and their luscious black hair also marked deeply the Chamberlin name.

And every member of my family had all of those qualities. My father Cain, my mother Jane, my brother Timothy and all the other relatives that I didn't meet often.

Everyone but me.

I did not know how to talk to people, I could not eat without dirtying my clothes and my hair was as fair as the blinding sun. My charisma and class were so poor that, at the social events I went to as a child, people would always treat me as if I was a street rat who should be in a dirty alleyway of London.

I did not fit in my family and they made sure to remind me of that everyday.

But I won't hide this from you: there was a time that Timothy and I were great friends. We used to play together all the time, even though it was clear that our parents didn't approve.

That changed a few days before we went to Weston College for the first time when mother and father had a long, private talk with Timothy.

I don't know what they talked about but, after that, Timothy started to avoid me as if I had the plague.

* * *

The only time we played together since then was when some of his friend came over and convinced him to let me join a game they invented called 'Ghost Hunt'.

Because of my platinum blonde hair, they always forced me to be the ghost in the game. The rules were quite simple: the hunters had to pursue and frighten the ghost and the first one to make the ghost scream was the winner. After the first time I had joined their little game, I ran to my parents, crying like a baby, and told them what had happened.

Father just rolled his eyes and said tiredly: "You're a man, Cyril, even though that hair of yours makes you look like a little girl. So stop crying because of every little thing and behave like one already."

Mother wasn't better. "Don't lie to me, Cyril. Timothy is a sweet boy who wouldn't hurt a fly. If someone is capable of creating and playing a game cruel like this, that someone is you alone."

* * *

I didn't understand why they treated me with so much indifference. I was their son too, right? Even if my hair wasn't as pretty as theirs, it wasn't right for them to show so much favoritism towards my brother.

* * *

Even in our school I was obfuscated by Timothy, the youngest protégé of the Red Dormitory's prefect. Everyone wanted to be his friend and they knew that Timothy didn't talk to me. So, to be his friends, all the other boys of the school ignored me as well.

With no one to talk to, I buried myself in books. By transporting me to other worlds, they made me forget about my horrible family and boring life. And by giving me more knowledge, they made me realize that I could be much more than that loser I called brother.

The books helped me, but they weren't enough.

I still felt miserable because my parents didn't care about me, but idolized my brother. And I felt enraged too, because, even though I didn't have the qualities of a Chamberlin, I still was so much better than that spoiled and idiotic boy.

You'll have to agree with me in one thing: I DESERVED to be treated as the most important, not Timothy.

But my parents didn't pay any attention to me. They didn't acknowledge my potential.

When I was ten years old, though, someone else did. Someone much more powerful than them.

* * *

I reading was in the family's library when a voice came from the door; soft and sweet.

"Hello there. Are you the young Cyril? I've been searching for you."

I quickly raised my head towards the door to see who in the world could be searching for me. It was a man who seemed to be 40 years old. My jaw dropped in awe; his clothes and hair were pitch-black, while his eyes were of a frightening blood-red color.

"Who are you?" I breathed out.

"My name is Anthony Kent, young Cyril." The man purred with a sweet smile on his face. "I am your grandfather's butler." My eyes widened in shock; I didn't even know that I had a grandfather. "I was ordered to take you to the dinning room where he is; he wishes to meet you."

I stared at the butler in shocked silence, wondering if I had heard him correctly. I had a grandfather and he **wished **to meet me?

"What about Timothy?" I spat out after some moments. "I'm sure he'll be more pleased by my brother than me. Everyone is."

The butler's smile grew at my words. "Your grandfather has already been introduced to the young Timothy." I scowled in distaste; of course he had already met my brother. Timothy always came first.

I was about to tell the butler off in anger, but stopped myself at realizing something: my grandfather had already met Timothy-

"And he still wishes to meet me?" I concluded my thoughts out loud.

"Yes."

I felt my jaw drop in disbelief. Timothy had not been good enough for him! For the first time, someone hadn't been baffled by that idiot! I jumped off the chair and ran to the dinning room, stopping in front of the double doors to catch my breath.

"My, my; you are a very fast runner, young Cyril." Anthony commented in a sickly sweet tone by my side, making me jump slightly in fright. How did he manage to catch up with me?

"I have to be, so I can get away from my brother's friends." I stated darkly. "But that has no importance right now. Let's get inside; my grandfather awaits."

"Of course." The butler purred and opened the doors to the room.

I hadn't ever seen or heard about my grandfather before but it wasn't hard for me to locate him in the dinning room; he had something that simply drew your attention to him.

My grandfather's hair was short and slicked back, its once dark color had given place to a cool shade of gray; the same one of his eyes. He sat at the head of the table, tall and imposing, talking softly with my parents. My mother was sitting at his left and my father at his right; both seemed to be extremely pleased to see the Marquise.

Cheering inside, I noticed Timothy was nowhere in sight.

As soon as I entered the room, he turned his gaze to me, but it didn't have that coldness I was accustomed to. On the contrary, it was warm and inviting.

"Hello, Cyril. I am your grandfather, Archibald." He said with a smile on his lips. "I am truly sorry for taking so long to come and meet you and your brother. Business kept me overseas for the last ten years, but I would love to make up for the lost time. What about you?"

He truly was a Chamberlin; less than two minutes in his presence and I already loved him.

"O-Of course!" I exclaimed quickly and loudly, earning a glare from each of my parents and an intrigued look from my grandfather. Realizing my lack of class, I blushed and tried again, with a much lower and collected voice.

"I mean, I feel honored that you'd like to spend more time with me and shall oblige with your wish happily, Lord Archibald Chamberlin."

His intrigued expression quickly morphed into a pleased one.

"No need to formalities; you can call me grandfather." He said softly. "By the way, you have a marvelous vocabulary, Cyril."

"Thank you, grandfather." I spoke, my cheeks burning at the compliment. "I-I just read a lot."

"What kind of books do you read?"

"You shouldn't ask that, father." My father put in with disdain before I could even open my mouth. "This boy spends all of his free time in the library instead of behaving like a normal child. I doubt there's a kind of book he doesn't read."

"Really?" Grandfather asked, looking at me with wide eyes.

I bowed my head in shame to escape his gaze, fearing he'd consider me a freak.

"That is simply marvelous, Cyril!" He spoke with excitement in his voice, making me and my parents raise shocked eyes to him. "It's extremely important to feed your brain with knowledge."

"R-Really?" I let out.

"Certainly." He stated firmly, raising himself from his seat. "Why don't we go to the library so you can show me the books you've read already?"

"Would you like me to call Timothy to go with you, Lord Archibald?" My mother asked, her voice sweet but desperate. I couldn't help but narrow my eyes at her question, something that I'm sure didn't go unnoticed by my grandfather.

"No need for that." He answered softly, and gave me a wink. "From what Timothy told me about himself, I doubt his literally preferences involve something beyond bedtime stories."

I would've laughed at that, if my parents weren't glaring at me in a way that made me fear for my life.

"Don't worry, though, Jane. I'm sure Timothy and I will find something else to do together." He added, giving mother a reassuring smile.

Now, I'm sure you'll agree with me that someone as smart as my grandfather would never wish to spend time with Timothy when he was that young and stupid. I'm certain he just said that to calm my mother.

You see now what the Chamberlins are capable of, my dear reader? We can make people believe in any lies we tell and love us because of them.

"Cyril, Anthony, let's go."

* * *

The next two weeks had been the most incredible of my whole life until then. Every evening before dinner, sometimes even after, grandfather Archibald spent time in the library with me, learning just how much knowledge I possessed and adding to it everyday; he had even taught me how to play chess, a game that I simply fell in love with.

Tell me, do you realize how wonderful it was to me to finally have someone to talk to? Someone that actually listens to what you have to say and responds to it?

Father and mother even pushed Timothy in the library one evening - trying to get him in grandfath

er's good graces, I'm sure. The poor boy wasn't even able to understand what we were talking about.

For the first time in my life I felt more appreciated than Timothy. Sure, grandfather also spent lots of time with him, but I'm certain it was just to please my parents.

The only thing that bothered me about our evenings in the library was that butler of his; he followed us everywhere as if he was my grandfather's shadow.

"Anthony, why don't you go help prepare the dinner tonight?" Grandfather asked softly to the butler. "I wish to talk with my grandson privately for a few minutes."

The butler bowed deeply, with a submissive smile on his face.

"Your wish is my command, my lord." He purred and left the room.

"What do you wish to talk about, grandfather?" I asked anxiously as soon as the butler was out of the door.

"Next week, I shall go on another business-trip overseas. This one will last about six years." He stated simply.

My eyes widened and I felt fear build up in me. I didn't want to return to my boring and lonely life! I couldn't!

My first urge was to scream and cry and beg for him to stay, but I pushed it to the back of my mind and kept my composure. Grandfather didn't like weak people, so I refused to behave like one.

"Where are you going to this time, grandfather?" I asked, faking curiosity to keep my feelings away. It seemed I did the right thing, because a proud smirk stretched across his lips.

"Interesting places." He answered. "United States of America, South Africa, Italy and France."

"That shall be a most fascinating trip then." I stated with a forced smile.

"I'm glad you think that." He began amusedly. "Because I intend to bring you with me."

* * *

Before continuing my story, I will explain why Archibald chose these locations.

As I told you before, the Chamberlin family began with the wool business. But, as the time passed, we expanded our fabric-business to many different types of clothes. Among them was cotton, which we grew in South Africa and America, in a partnership with local inhabitants. The partnership alleviated the need to check on the plantations, but Archibald liked to keep tabs on how everything was going so, even not really needing it, he travelled a lot to check on his business.

France and Italy were recreational choices; Archibald simply loved visiting these countries.

Now, back to what really matters.

* * *

"WHY?!" I could hear my father yell inside his study; my right ear glued to its door. "Why do you wish to take that boy with you?! Why not Timothy?!"

"Timothy is not mature enough for this trip, my son. Maybe next time he'll be able to join me." My grandfather answered simply. "Not to mention that Cyril needs someone who can educate him properly. You and your wife are wasting his potential."

"Wasting his potential?! That boy is going to one of the most prestigious schools of this country!"

"His academic education may be good, but you're incapable of teaching him how to **behave** as a true Chamberlin."

"That's because he isn't a true Chamberlin!"

* * *

And that was how I found out that my parents weren't actually my parents. Now, I know what you're thinking: that it was obvious and that I could've said it since the beginning.

Well, that would've been stupid of me because, if I had done that, you wouldn't understand how anguishing it was for me to grow up believing that my parents loved Timothy more than me for no reason. And that, my dear reader, would not make you understand me, defeating the purpose of me telling you my history.

* * *

After hearing those words, I couldn't stop myself from stumbling back in shock. That was why they treated me like that… that was why I would never be good enough for them.

Silent tears streaked down my face in a mixture of pain and relief. Relief because I understood that there was an actual reason for all the indifference and disgust I received. And pain because I hadn't seen it before, even though, as I stated a couple of paragraphs earlier, it was painfully obvious.

Still crying, I returned to my place at the door to continue listening to the conversation.

"But he is." I heard Marquise Archibald's powerful voice coming from inside. "You turned him into one the day you promised his mother that you'd raise him as your own son. And I must say: you're not being true to your words."

That seemed to do the trick, because Cain's voice was far louder and angrier than before.

"NOT BEING TRUE TO MY WORDS?! HOW DARE YOU SAY-"

"How dare **you** to raise your voice to me like that?!" The Marquise interrupted and, even though his voice wasn't nearly as loud as Cain's, it was far more powerful and imposing. "I am your father, remember that."

"I-I… I apologize." Cain spat out in resignation. "I shouldn't have exalted myself like that."

"I understand it must be hard for you and your wife, my son. After all, he is a copy of his mother." The elder began sympathetically. "It must be painful for you to see the face of the woman that rejected your love for a man who used her body for a couple of years then discarded it for you to pick up the pieces. And I can not even imagine dear Jane's pain; to be always reminded by him that she was actually your second choice, that, in reality, you never loved her and never will."

"Why?" Cain's broken voice came and I just knew he was crying. "Why must you remind me of that?"

"To make you understand that, as long as Cyril lives here with you, you'll be miserable and so will Jane. He is a constant reminder of all the pain that you went through." Marquise Archibald answered softly, and I just knew that embracing Cain in a comforting hug. "Face it; you are unable to fulfill your promise to his mother in an adequate manner. You are unable of seeing him as your son, but I can see him as my grandson. You can put an end to your suffering, my son. Just accept my proposal and let me take Cyril with me. It'll be better for him and for you. You know it will."

* * *

Cain did accept his proposal and, two weeks later, I was sailing towards the American continent; the U.S.A were our first destiny.

Elbows laid on the ship's railing and eyes turned up to the night's sky, I allowed myself to let a happy sigh escape my lips.

A few minutes later, the Marquise appeared by my side.

"This is the first time you leave England, no?" He asked with a warm voice. "Are you happy?"

"Extremely happy, sir." I answered with a big smile on my face. "I am very grateful to you for giving me such an opportunity."

"You could show your gratitude by calling me grandfather again." He stated with a smirk on his lips. "If you're going to eavesdrop on people's conversation, don't make it obvious, Cyril."

"So you know about that." I grunted, burying my now red face in my hands.

"Of course I do." Archibald said smugly. "You still have much to learn about controlling your facial expressions. It was written all over your face that you had eavesdropped on me and your father."

I was about to point out that Cain had made it clear that I was not his son, but a raise of his hand was enough to stop me.

"Don't even begin, Cyril." He put in firmly. "Cain is your father, Jane is your mother, Timothy is your brother and I am your grandfather; you are a Chamberlin and that is final." Then a big smile stretched across his face. "All I need to do is teach you how to behave as one."

* * *

The first and most important thing I've learned from Archibald was how to read people. Let me tell you: it is incredible how much you can learn from one's character with just a few minutes of attentive observation. With that, it is easy to know how one should behave to be liked and trusted by another, no matter how his or her personality is.

The second thing I learned was how to act to each and every kind of person I met. And Archibald was a master of acting. He could be any kind of person you can imagine: cold and distant, warm and inviting, shy and awkward or even happy and dumb. There was no end to the personalities he could pretend to have.

And no way to tell which one was the true either.

Then came the physical teachings: how to walk with self-confidence, how to sit as nobility, how to dance with grace, how to eat properly, how to flirt with class and how fight with elegance.

Unfortunately, these were all taught to me by none other than Anthony Kent. I didn't like the butler since the beginning but, after learning how to read people, I could tell that I almost hated him. It was obvious that he thought himself too good to be my tutor - even though I excelled in everything - and that annoyed me to no end. I said nothing to Archibald though; I could deal with a mere butler with superiority complex for six years.

Even though the training of my social skills was Archibald's priority, the improvement of my academic ones was not far behind. In those six years, I learned many things about History, Geography, Economics, Philosophy, Biology and three different languages (French, Italian and Dutch).

* * *

As a result of Archibald's dense education, I matured a lot in a very short time. At the age of thirteen, I already saw myself as an adult, for I was much smarter and more serious than most of them.

But something was still lacking for me to achieve the status of a man. Eduard Morris showed this to me one year later, when we were in South Africa.

* * *

As I told you before, Archibald had extended the Chamberlin's official business to America and South Africa, but, in the later, his economics activities went beyond cotton plantations known to everyone. What no one knew was that Archibald was deeply involved with extraction and traffic of diamonds and other gemstones, with Morris being his mediator.

Eduards Morris was a poor Dutch that went to the Boer state to try his luck with diamonds. And he was very lucky; lucky to have met Archibald, who needed someone to be his representative in the place. To England, Morris was simply the manager of Marquise Chamberlin's plantations, but, behind that façade, they would traffic absurd amounts of gemstones from South Africa.

Now, why do you think they chose to traffic the gemstones instead of putting them in the market legally? To avoid taxes?

What a simplistic logic… But I guess it can't be helped, after all you still don't know half of the things I do.

My dear reader, Archibald initiated the 'Lucifer Project' in 1860, before I was even born, in 1868. In its first years, the project sponsoring came from part of Archibald and Morris' profits with the traffic; that was stored in a bank in Netherlands, under fake names. This way they could provide as much money to the Lucifer Project without being directly linked to it.

But I digress. The 'Lucifer Project' is a topic for another time.

Let's go back to what happened to me during my time in South Africa with Morris.

* * *

If there was one thing that marked Eduard Morris was his indulgence into any sort of vice that gave him pleasure, be it gambling, drinking, smoking, sniffing or sleeping around.

South Africa was nowhere near London, but it did have brothels.

And Morris frequented all of them.

And he loved company.

And that is why, when I was fourteen years old, he convinced my grandfather to let me in his care for one night and took me to one of the brothels.

* * *

"Are you sure I'm allowed to be here?" I asked in a harsh voice, glaring daggers at the drunk man sitting in front of me.

I don't even need to tell you how very uncomfortable I felt then; sitting with Morris at a table in a poorly illuminated place, full of drunk men and semi-naked prostitutes walking around the room.

"Relax, jongen!" Morris said, breath stenching of alcohol and cigarettes. "You're sixdeen already!" I was fourteen. "Id's dime for you do enjoy the pleasures life has do offer." With that, he grabbed a random prostitute and threw her at me.

Holding the woman to keep her from falling face-first on the ground, I glared at the Dutch. He was too drunk to notice it.

"Dake the jongen upstairs and give him a good dime, yes?"

The woman didn't need to be told twice. She grabbed my hand and quickly pulled me into one of the brothel's rooms. Once inside the room, my anger vanished, giving place to dread, anxiousness and nausea. What can I say? I was young and completely inexperienced. Until that moment, I had never glanced at a woman for more than a few seconds, and, suddenly, there I was: locked in a room with a semi-naked prostitute walking towards me.

Unconsciously, I took a step back.

Noticing my uneasiness, the woman retreated and sat on the bed. She gave me a very seductive smile and made a 'come here' motion with her index finger. Only then, I took time to actually observe her.

I felt my throat go dry almost immediately.

That woman, my first one, had a most exotic beauty: her skin, hair and eyes were of that pitch-black color I loved so much; her figure was tall and lean with curves that'd put most women I'd seen in my whole life to shame.

With one last shaky breath, I took a step towards her.

* * *

From that night to the day we left South Africa, I spent many nights in Eduard Morris' company and I must say that enjoyed each and every of them. I didn't smoke, I didn't gamble, I didn't drink and I didn't sniff, but I did sleep around.

I still do.

You might find this habit repulsive, but you'll have to make an exception to me, reader dearest. I did not sleep with prostitutes due to 'carnal needs'; my reason for acquiring this habit is far more… clean than that.

The truth is: I like the attention. When you're intimate with someone, there's only one thing in that person's mind: you. Even if for a short period of time, you're the only important thing for that person and that meant the world to me.

You might say I'm needy, but do not think lowly of me, my dear reader. I'm not a pervert; I just find comfort in a different place from most people.

* * *

Two years later, came the day to return to England. The day I had once dreaded arrived and I can honestly say that I was happy with it.

I had left England as I revolted little boy, but was returning to it as very experienced man and I was going to show it to Timothy, to Jane and to Cain.

"Grandfather." I called with an innocent voice as we watched the Port of Marseille withdraw from our views. "Could you tell me more about my mother? What did she look like? How did she behave?"

* * *

**A few notes:**

**Jongen is dutch for boy. (courtesy of Google translator, of course XD)**

**And I'm sorry if my attempt at a Dutch accent sucked too much. I looked for it in the internet, and all I could really take out of the sites I visited was to change the 't' for 'd'.****  
**


End file.
